Coming Home
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: Sam has left the hunting world behind, but it doesn't mean he's forgotten his big brother. Dean finds out Sam is there when he really needs him. Epilogue added.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, although I wouldn't mind if Jared Padalecki belonged to me. ;)

Coming Home

Chapter 1

Sam gently rinsed off his three month old daughter with a soft white wash cloth decorated with pink whales and then lifted the squirming, slippery baby out of her tiny bath tub. Gently he wrapped her in a pink hooded towel and stood from his kneeling position beside the bath tub, wincing as his lower back protested. Hannah looked up at Sam with eyes the same color as his own and cooed happily as her pudgy fingers reached for his nose.

A smile curved Sam's lips and he pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "I know; you love your baths," he told her as he carried her to her bedroom and settled her on the changing table. Hannah waved her arms in front of her and kicked her legs as Sam attempted to fasten her diaper tightly. He chuckled. "Hold still, you little wiggle worm."

Hannah just waved her hands in front of her face before managing to get a fist up to her mouth. She began to suck on it vigorously.

"You're ready for your bottle, aren't you?" Sam asked, as he tucked his daughter's tiny feet into a green onesie his brother had sent to Hannah right before she was born. Sam grinned as he thought of the conversation he'd had with his brother when he called to thank him for the gift.

"Too much pink, Sammy. She needs something that's not pink." Dean had sounded disgusted at the thought of the very girly color Sam's wife, Lily, had favored.

Sam sighed heavily as he lifted his daughter into his arms after one final swipe at her blonde hair and tossed the discarded wet towel into the bathroom as he headed toward the kitchen. Lily. She'd died the day after Hannah's birth. The labor had been difficult and had ended in a C-section when the baby's heartbeat dropped dangerously low. The surgery had gone well and Hannah was a healthy seven pound baby. The day after, however, Sam had been visiting with his wife and daughter when Lily suddenly couldn't breath and was grasping at her chest as pain seized her.

Sam had hugged his infant daughter to his chest as doctors and nurses rushed into the room on the maternity ward. Ultimately, they were unable to save his wife from the tiny little blood clot that traveled to her heart and killed her.

Grief and despair had rolled over Sam in waves. His wife had been a hunter, tough and rugged, unafraid of anything. She'd faced wendigos, vampires, ghouls, and beasts too numerous to name, yet was taken from him and their daughter by a tiny little clot of blood. It seemed unreal and Sam moved as if in a daze through the funeral and the dark days afterwards. He had longed for his brother, but Dean was working with a hunter friend of their dad's to track down a nest of rogue vampires. He'd warned Sam it would be a while before he heard from him. Sam knew his brother was going to be distraught and incredibly guilty when he returned from his hunt.

Sam ached inside when he thought of his wife and this home they'd purchased just before Hannah was born. They had searched for just the right place, and Lily had refused to settle for anything less than her dream home once she had decided to live a more "normal" life. This house had a finished basement with a guest room that Sam insisted become "Dean's room." Lily had given in and allowed Sam to decorate the room with his brother in mind. Dean still had no idea the room even existed. It had been finished just before Hannah's birth and Lily's death.

Sam adjusted Hannah in his arms and reached for a bottle to heat for her. The baby let out a squawk. She was hungry. "I'm hurrying," Sam chuckled. "You take after your Uncle Dean when it comes to food."

His brother was going to love his niece; Sam couldn't wait until he could introduce them. Bobby was going to try to get word to Dean about Lily, but Sam hadn't heard any news from his brother. He knew Dean would do his best to get here once he heard the news.

Sam worried about Dean every single day. If he didn't have the responsibility of Hannah, Sam would have gone to look for Dean himself, but he refused to leave his daughter to go hunting. If something happened to him, Hanna would be an orphan. Sam had given up hunting the day he'd married Lily, but Dean swore that hunting was it for him; he swore it was all he was fit to do. It was the only life he'd ever known, and Sam couldn't convince him to try anything else.

Sam thought of the room downstairs he had prepared carefully for his brother. Hopefully, one day he'd be able to talk Dean into taking some time off and staying here with him and Hannah. The thought of having his brother safely ensconced in the room downstairs made his heart warm. Maybe one day….

"Maybe Uncle Dean will come see us one day, Hannah Banana!" Sam enthused as he tickled his daughter's tummy. She giggled, but it turned into a whine.

"You're hungry; I know," Sam smiled as he retrieved the now-warm bottle and tested it. Shifting Hannah into a more comfortable position in his arms, he carried her into the living room and popped the nipple into her mouth. She latched on and sucked voraciously as her eyes stared up into her daddy's.

Sam settled on the couch and cuddled his tiny daughter close. "I'm worried about your Uncle Dean, Hannah," he sighed. "We should have heard from him by now."

The baby suckled eagerly, her little fist waving in the air. She was only worried about filling her empty tummy.

Sam chewed his lower lip as his thoughts wandered. It was so hard to stay put when all he wanted to do was make sure his brother was alive and well. Sam was grateful that he was able to work from home doing computer research, but the time alone gave him too much time to think. His thoughts often wandered to his late wife and to his brother. Worries nagged at him constantly as loneliness tugged at the depths of his soul. First, he'd lost Jess and now Lily. Was he going to lose his brother, too?

Sam heaved a heavy sigh and tugged the bottle from between his daughter's lips; he settled Hannah against his shoulder. She fussed as he gently patted her back until she released a loud burp. "Yeah, you definitely take after Dean," Sam mused with a dry laugh as he fed his daughter the rest of her formula.

Hannah fell asleep just before finishing her bottle. Sam set it to the side and studied the little girl in his arms. Her rosebud lips were pursed in slumber and continued to work as if the bottle's nipple was still nestled between them. Her smile belonged to Lily along with fuzzy blonde hair that covered her head. Her eyes, although the same color as Sam's, were shaped exactly like Dean's. It warmed Sam's heart to see a trace of his brother in Hannah.

A heavy pounding on the back door startled Sam from his thoughts and caused both him and Hannah to jump. The baby began screaming as Sam lunged to his feet. His heart hammered in his chest as his hunter's instincts kicked in. He carefully placed his daughter on a blanket on the floor in the living room before grabbing the gun he kept hidden downstairs. On silent feet, Sam crept toward the kitchen and the back door. The pounding was softer now, erratic.

Finding his mouth suddenly as dry as cotton, Sam maneuvered so that he could see out of the window toward the back door. All he could see was the outline of a person in the dim light from his neighbor's backyard. A frown marred his face as the figure slumped against the door, almost as if he or she couldn't stand any longer. Sam squinted. It couldn't be. The figure moved and Sam could finally see his profile. "Dean," he breathed, reaching for the doorknob and easing the door open so his brother didn't fall into the house.

"Sammy," Dean breathed as he sunk into his younger brother's arms.

"Dean?" Sam gulped, his stomach plummeting as his hand came in contact with warm, sticky blood on his brother's side. "Okay, come on, let's get you lying down so I can see where you are hurt."

Dean grunted as Sam shrugged his arm over his shoulder so he could support his weight. It was all Dean could do to put one foot in front of the other. Sam was practically dragging him into the living room toward the couch.

Sam felt Dean sag against him. "Almost there, Dean. Keep moving your legs. You can do this."

"Sammy," Dean slurred, as his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

Sam grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over the cushions before easing his brother down to a sitting position. "Okay, Dean, there you go. Let me see how bad it is," Sam coaxed as he gently pushed his brother's hands away from the bloody wound. Sam's heart pounded in his chest. There was so much blood. He swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat and spared a glance at his daughter across the room. She kicked her legs happily and sucked on her fist, oblivious to the chaos going on around her.

Dean relaxed against the back of the couch with a groan as Sam grasped the fabric of his shirt and ripped it open. There was no way it could be saved. He cursed at the sight of the angry wound in his brother's left side just below his ribs. Dean had lost a lot of blood, and Sam had no idea how long it had taken him to get to the house.

"You need stitches," Sam fretted. "Let me go get the first aid kit."

"i'm 'kay, Sammy," Dean slurred as his head lolled against the back of the couch.

"Sure you are, Dean," the younger Winchester replied. "I'll be right back." Sam hurried down the hall and retrieved the stocked first aid kit he kept at the bottom of the linen closet for situations such as these. One a hunter, always a hunter. Sam made his way back to his brother to find Dean trying to get up off of the couch as baby Hannah whimpered from her place on the floor.

"Must not have killed it, Sammy," Dean grunted. "I think it's coming back; I hear it."

Sam gently pushed his brother back against the couch. "Blood loss has you delirious," he explained. "Your niece is complaining because it's past her bedtime." He soaked a square of gauze with alcohol and tried to catch Dean's attention. "I need to clean the wound. This is going to hurt."

Dean released a curse as the alcohol seared the open wound and tried to push Sam's hand away.

"Leave it," Sam instructed his brother, shoving Dean's hand away much too easily. Blood loss was having an effect on Dean Winchester, and that fact alone scared Sam. "Okay, all done, Dean," he murmured, glancing up to his brother's face. Sweat beaded on Dean's upper lip and his face was gray with pain. He rummaged through the first aid kit until he found the bottle of pills he was looking for. He helped his brother swallow them down by holding a bottle of water to his lips. Sam watched as Dean sagged back against the couch and decided to just get things over with so that his brother could get some rest and begin healing.

Now that Sam was sure the wound was disinfected, he doused it with holy water and watched Dean closely. To his immense relief, there was no reaction. "This is going to take quite a few stitches," he warned his brother, finally ready to take care of the bleeding wound.

Dean was nearly dozing off against the couch as Sam threaded the needle. Sam glanced at his daughter who was beginning to protest being left alone on her blanket. Her little face scrunched up and she drew her legs up to her stomach. Sam prepared himself for the loud cry that was sure to come at any moment.

He took a deep breath and pushed the needle through Dean's skin. His brother grunted in pain, his body stiffening against the couch. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam breathed. "I'll try to be quick." His stomach turned summersaults as he watched the needle tug through Dean's bloody skin.

Hannah whimpered her displeasure and waved her fisted hands around her face. "Daddy's taking care of Uncle Dean, Hannah," Sam called over his shoulder. "I'll be there soon, sweetheart."

"Unca Dean," the older Winchester chuckled, drunk with blood loss.

"Hold still," Sam ordered as he pulled on a stubborn stitch, his brow crinkled with worry.

Dean gasped and arched away from him.

"Sorry. Sorry," Sam apologized as he used gauze to wipe away blood so that he could see better.

Hannah was screaming and Dean was sweating profusely by the time Sam tied off the final stitch.

"Somebody's got a baby, Sammy," Dean commented, nearly delirious at this point.

Sam could feel the heat radiating from his brother's skin and he winced. "You have a fever," he pointed out as he rifled through the kit until he found a bottle of antibiotics left over from something or other. He gave Dean two pills to swallow and made sure his brother got them down before cleaning up the first aid kit.

"I'll be right back, Dean," he assured his brother. "I'm going to find you something to wear. We'll get your stuff out of the car tomorrow."

Sam glanced down at his daughter who continued to scream, her little face red and angry. "I'll be right back, Hannah. You keep Dean company."

Sam stashed the first aid kit back in the closet, washed the blood off of his hands, and found sweat pants and a t-shirt for his brother. He wrangled the bloody clothes off of Dean as gently as he could and dressed his brother in the soft clothes he'd pulled from his own bedroom. Carefully, he helped Dean lie back on the couch, wincing every time his older brother moaned or gasped in pain.. Tugging a blanket off the back of his recliner, he tucked it around his brother.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean yawed as his eyes dropped closed.

Sam sighed as worry for his big brother gnawed at his gut. "Get some rest, Dean." Then he turned his attention to his daughter, scooping the crying three-month-old into his arms. "Shhhh, it's okay," he soothed. His nose wrinkled as he got a whiff of his daughter's diaper. "Oh, Hannah, no wonder you're upset. Come on, let's go get you changed."

Sam glanced at his brother and was relieved to see that Dean appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He pressed his lips to the crown of his daughter's fuzzy head and carried her down the hall to the bedroom to change her diaper.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Coming Home

Chapter 2

Dean's side throbbed painfully and he felt hot all over. The thought of moving was not very appealing, but he had no choice. He was all alone and his throat was do dry. He was going to choke if he didn't get something to drink. Dean longed for the days when he hunted with his younger brother. Not that Dean had allowed Sam to do much to help him, but a gut wound was extraordinarily painful and Sam could have helped him with any necessary movements. But Sam had chosen to leave the hunting life and settle down. Dean knew his brother had always wanted "normal," and didn't fault him one bit for his choice. He just missed always having Sam around, especially now when he had nearly been gutted.

His thoughts were foggy from the pain radiating from his middle and medication he didn't remember taking. Dean couldn't remember going to a hospital to get stitched up, but he was pretty sure he hadn't sewn up his own wound. He groaned and placed a hand over his injured side as pain stabbed into him, hot and sharp.

"Easy," a voice soothed as a cool rag landed on his forehead.

Dean sighed with relief as the coolness soaked into his overheated skin. That felt so good.

"You have a pretty high fever," the voice continued. "You can have more antibiotics in a few hours."

The voice sounded so much like his baby brother that it made his heart ache, but it couldn't be him. Sam was somewhere in a cozy home holding an infant daughter in his arms. But still… "Sam?" Dean queried groggily, pretty sure he was delirious. He worked to force his eyes open, but the lids were so heavy.

"Just rest, Dean. Your body needs to heal. I'll be here when you wake up," his brother's voice reassured him.

Dean was nearly certain that he was hallucinating. "Sam?" he croaked again. It couldn't possibly be his brother. It had to be another hunter or even a random stranger, but he missed Sam so badly that his body was making him believe that his brother was there.

Deciding that getting his eyelids open was too difficult a task at the moment, Dean tried to figure out where he was. He discarded the idea of a hospital because the room didn't smell like antiseptic and the bed was too comfortable. The air didn't have the stale quality of an old, cheap motel room either. There was no tang of old cigarette smoke to tingle his nostrils and no ancient heater rattled from beneath the window.

Confusion warred within him, and Dean forced his eyes open at long last. The effort exhausted him. He blinked and focused on a white ceiling, a _clean_ white ceiling with no stains unlike most of the motels he'd stayed in over the years. Dean turned his head to the side and the world began to spin. Nausea twisted sickly in his stomach and he swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.

A trash can appeared next to him, and gentle yet strong hands supported him as he gagged painfully into its depths although his stomach was very nearly empty. Pain stabbed through his side as he heaved and tears of pain coursed unbidden down his cheeks. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision as his body broke out in a cold sweat. Strong arms caught him as he slumped forward into welcoming darkness.

Sam eased his brother's sweaty, over-heated form back onto the bed and grimaced at the mess in the trash can. He quickly cleaned it out and placed it back beside the bed just in case Dean needed it. Next, he gently removed Dean's soiled, sweaty shirt and slipped a fresh white t-shirt over his head. Last, he wiped his brother's face with a cool cloth, a smile tugging at his lips as Dean sighed in relief.

The last few hours had passed slowly. Sam still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to get his brother down the basement steps to the room he'd set up for him, but Dean was now safely tucked into "his" bed. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face; he was exhausted. Sleep had been scarce lately. Between caring for a newborn daughter, grieving over the loss of his wife, and worrying about the safety of his brother, Sam had been awake more than asleep most nights.

Sam sank down into the recliner he'd placed in the corner of Dean's room. It was made of good quality, dark brown leather. A soft plaid blanket was folded neatly over the back just in case Dean got cold while watching TV, just in case he decided he ever wanted to visit his younger brother. Sam pulled the blanket over him as he reclined in the chair. Exhaustion tugged at him, but he was reluctant to sleep. Dean's fever was creeping a little higher than he'd like and Hannah would wake soon demanding to be fed. Within a few minutes, he was snoring softly, his body completely exhausted.

Dean was hot, not just regular hot, but nearly scorching. It was like he was burning up from the inside out. His stomach was on fire, and the heat seemed to radiate out to the rest of his body. Heat licked at his skin an the felt as if he was burning alive. Had he been carried back to hell? Had he died and been sent back to the fiery depths?

The heat was all-consuming now. His body writhed as he burned. Hoarse screams escaped his parched lips as he burned from the inside out. "Sam!" he screamed. Sam would be the only one who could figure out a way to save him from this torture. The agony only continued, and his body contorted with pain. "Sam, please!" Dean begged pitifully, tears clogging his voice. "I can't, Sammy; I just can't," he pleaded. "So hot, Sammy. I'm burning….just burning."

Sam woke to his brother's screaming. "Sam!"

He threw himself out of the recliner, nearly tipping the chair forward on top of him. He flung the blanket that tangled around his long legs to the floor and leaned over his thrashing, sobbing brother. Dean's face was flushed red with fever, and the heat radiating off of his body was alarming. Sam glanced at the clock and sighed in relief. Dean could have another dose of antibiotic.

Sam quickly procured two antibiotic pills and two Tylenol and opened the bottle of water on the bedside table. "Dean, I need you to take these for me," he urged his brother gently.

Dean only thrashed about on the bed. "So hot, Sammy. I'm burning…just burning."

Sam's heart pounded in his chest and sweat beaded on his forehead. Dean thought he was back in Hell. "Dean, you're safe," he promised as he sank to the edge of the bed and attempted to get his brother to take the pills. "You're not there anymore; I promise."

"Get away from me!" Dean flailed his arms weakly as he tried to push Sam away from him. "Sam, help me! Sam!"

"I'm right here, Dean," Sam soothed, as he put the water and medicine down on the bedside table and managed to wrangle one arm around his older brother. "I've got you; it's okay. You're not back there, Dean, and I'm never letting you go back." He wrapped his arms around his brother tightly; the clean t-shirt he'd slipped on Dean earlier was now damp with sweat and clung to the injured man's body. "I promise you aren't there."

Dean twisted in Sam's grip, his head meeting Sam's collarbone hard as he turned to look at the face of the man holding him. His eyes were feverish and unseeing. "Where's m'brother?" Dean ground out through clenched teeth. He strained to free himself. "I need Sam."

"I'm right here, Dean. You're safe. I just need you to take some medicine for me. It will help you cool down," Sam promised, the heat radiating from Dean's body causing him to break out in a sweat. He tightened his arms slightly around his brother in a hug and rested his cheek against his brother's sweaty hair.

Dean blinked. "You can't be him," he nearly sobbed. "You can't be Sam. He's safe. He's free."

Sam tightened his grip on the older hunter and pressed the water bottle to Dean's lips. "Here, you're dehydrated. Drink some water for me."

Dean fought it. He wasn't sure what poison was in the bottle being held to his lips, and he knew he shouldn't drink any of it, but his mouth was so dry. His tongue clung to the roof of his mouth and his body was still on fire. He longed for the taste of cool, clear water to ease the burning sensation that roared through him.

"Drink it for me," Sam urged gently. "It's safe; you're safe," he promised the terrified man in his arms, doing his best to keep his voice calm and reassuring, although it was difficult to keep the panic from creeping into his tone.

Dean shook his head jerkily causing some of the water to spill down his white shirt.

"Come on, Dean," Sam urged. "Don't make me haul you to a hospital; you're dehydrated and probably have an infection."

Fire and pain so sharp it made him groan sliced across Dean's stomach and he sagged against the body holding him so tightly. He was exhausted and in pain. He was on fire. He could fight no longer. The bottle was pressed to his lips once again, and he managed a small sip. His tongue rejoiced as the cool moisture flowed over it.

"Good job, Dean," Sam encouraged as he slipped the pills between his brothers lips. "Try to drink enough to get these pills down." Sam smiled in relief as Dean took three more swallows of water.

Replacing the bottle on the nightstand, Sam spooned some applesauce Into his brother's mouth, relieved when Dean swallowed automatically and didn't fight him. He managed to get most of the small container into his brother before Dean dropped off into a deep sleep.

"Get some rest while I check out this wound, big brother," Sam sighed, worried about what he was going to find when he lifted the bandage. He gathered all of the supplies he thought he might need before washing and gloving up his hands to prevent more germs from getting into his brother's wound.

Lifting the bandage, he bit back a curse at the sight of the angry, inflamed flesh. Using the wound care knowledge he learned from his father, Bobby Singer, and other hunters over the years, he cleaned Dean's wound, wincing each time his brother groaned with pain. By the time he was covering the infected row of stitches and throwing away his used supplies, Hannah's cries were reverberating throughout the house.

Sam covered Dean with the sheets and warm blankets. "I'll be back soon," he promised. "I need to go get Hannah. She's hungry." He stood and stared at his brother for just a moment longer. "I can't wait until you're well enough to meet her. She's going to love you."

Forcing himself to move, Sam washed his hands and then headed straight to his daughter's room. Her tiny face was scrunched up in anger and her little fists waved frantically in her air. Her tummy was hungry and it had taken her daddy too long to come and get her. Sam scooped her into his arms and pressed kisses to her damp cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Hannah," he murmured against her soft skin. "I was taking care of Uncle Dean."

Sam changed the baby's wet diaper quickly and then carried her into the kitchen to heat up a bottle for her. Hannah squalled against his shoulder angrily. She was hungry. "Shhh," Sam soothed. "Uncle Dean needs his sleep, baby girl."

Sam cradled Hannah in his arms and tucked the nipple between her rosebud lips. She suckled hungrily and her cries immediately stopped. Sam sighed with relief as the quiet settled over the house. He carried his daughter upstairs and returned to the recliner in Dean's room.

Hannah studied her father's face as she ate greedily. Sam smiled down at her. "Just as soon as your Uncle Dean is feeling better, I'm gong to introduce you to him," he promised her. "You're going to have him wrapped around your little finger the first time he holds you." Hannah blinked sleepily and rubbed at her eyes with one pudgy fist.

Sam situated her against his shoulder where she drowsily let out a loud burp. He chuckled softly. "Your Uncle Dean will be proud of how well you burp. I know he will make a comment about it."

Hannah yawned and pressed her face into Sam's shoulder. He rubbed her back in soothing circles until she relaxed against him, deep in slumber once again.

Sam glanced over at his brother. Dean slept restlessly, circles of red standing out starkly against his pale face. His fever was still too high. Despite Sam's best efforts, a trip to the hospital was still a very real possibility. Standing with an exhausted sigh, Sam returned his daughter to her bed crib and then made his way back to Dean's room, determined to keep watch over his brother.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Hannah belongs to me. :)

Author's Note: In this story, the boys never lived in the bunker.

Coming Home

Chapter 3

Dean shifted on the soft mattress and heard a groan of pain, which he belatedly realized was coming from him. Agony seared across his stomach with any little move he made.

"Dean?" He heard Sam's voice call softly. "Hey, how're ya doing?" A gentle hand pressed against his damp forehead.

"Uhhh," was all Dean managed to get out even though he was trying for his little brother's name.

"I think your fever broke," Sam murmured, "but you're still going to be pretty weak."

Suddenly, a straw was pressed between Dean's lips and he gulped the water gratefully.

"Easy," Sam cautioned, "not too fast." He pulled the drink away and Dean grunted in frustration. "You can have some more in a few minutes," Sam promised.

Baby sounds emerged from the monitor on the nightstand and Dean's face scrunched in confusion. He searched his memory for a moment before details of his brother's life slid into place. "Tha' my niece, Sammy?" he slurred tiredly.

Sam grinned. "Yes, that's Hannah. She can't wait to meet her Uncle Dean."

Dean smiled sleepily. "Bet she's a looker like me," he yawned.

A laugh bubbled up from Sam's throat. "She burps just like you," he retorted as he slipped the straw between his brother's lips and allowed him a few more swallows of water.

Dean snorted a laugh and then moaned in pain.

"Easy," Sam cautioned as he placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean's eyelids drooped as he fought sleep. "Wanna meet her, Sammy," he murmured. "Gotta keep you from turning her into a total geek."

Shaking his head, Sam allowed another smile to quirk his lips. For the first time since his brother returned, he was able to relax. Dean's fever had broken and he was going to be okay. "Get some sleep and you can meet her tomorrow," he promised. He doubted Dean had even heard was he said; his brother was already sound asleep.

Sam settled into the recliner and watched his brother rest for a few minutes. He could hear Hannah babbling to herself through the monitor, and she seemed content so he'd let her play for now. When he was certain Dean was settled and going to remain asleep, Sam headed to his daughter's room and lifted her up into his arms.

"Hey, baby girl," he greeted, love for her flowing through him at the gummy smile that blossomed on her face when she saw her daddy. The thought that Lily would love to be here seeing their daughter smile made his heart ache. He pressed his lips to Hannah's downy blonde hair. "I'm so sorry, Hannah. I wanted you to have a mom, especially because I didn't and it was so hard not knowing her. It's so strange to miss someone you never really even knew." Sam sighed deeply. "But you'll always have me and Dean," he promised, knowing his brother loved this little girl even though he had never actually met her.

Hannah batted her fist at Sam's face and he caught it and pressed a kiss to her tiny hand. "You'll get to meet Uncle Dean tomorrow," he told her as she grinned at him once more. "Make sure to be a good girl, okay? He still doesn't feel very well."

Hannah scrunched her face up in a look Sam knew all too well. She was making a dirty diaper.

"You little stinker," he chuckled. He placed his daughter on a blanket on the floor so she could have some tummy time and finish her business before he changed her. Sinking down in the rocking chair Lily had lovingly picked out for the nursery, Sam sighed and swallowed against the lump of emotion that settled in his throat. He could barely breathe as thoughts of his wife assaulted him.

Her smile. Her laugh. Her love for their unborn daughter. The proud, huge smile on her face when Hannah was first placed in her arms. Sam nearly choked on the sob that suddenly burst from him. Hannah's gaze jerked up to him and she watched him with wide, curious eyes.

Sam slipped out of the chair and dropped to his knees by his daughter on the blanket. He ran a hand over her head before speaking softly to his baby girl. "Your momma loved you so much, Hannah. I'll make sure you always know that," he promised before wrinkling his nose at the stench coming from the baby's diaper.

Quickly changing his daughter, Sam disposed of the smelly diaper and then carried Hannah to the kitchen to prepare her bottle. Hannah became impatient and swatted her little hands around as she waited for her food.

Sam kissed her forehead. "Yup, you are so much like Dean, always ready to eat" he laughed. "I can't wait until tomorrow. You've going to have him wrapped around your little finger before he even knows what hit him."

Dean woke the next morning to sun slanting across the room from a narrow window high on the wall. He no longer felt like his body was on fire and the searing pain in his belly had been reduced to a dull roar. He searched his memory and remembered his brother's voice and gentle hands. Dean allowed his body to relax. He was with Sam. He was safe.

Dean's eyes travelled around the room. The walls were painted a cozy cream color and the windows were covered with blinds and topped with forest green valances. A chest of drawers stood against the wall at the foot of the bed with a TV hanging above it. Next to the chest of drawers was a door which Dean assumed led to a closet. A lamp sat on the small nightstand next to the bed and a dark brown leather recliner rested in the corner. Next to the recliner, nestled against the wall, was a small refrigerator. Sam definitely had a nice set-up here at the place he had purchased with Lily.

Thoughts of Lily had Dean clenching his jaw shut. Sam's wife was dead. Lily had been a strong, courageous hunter. She was the perfect match for his geeky, hunting. brother. Now Lily would grow up just like Dean and his younger brother, without a mother. Sam would carry the grief of losing the love of his life. It wasn't fair. Why was it the Winchester men could never catch a break?

And Hannah. Hannah wouldn't have a mom. Dean's heart ached for her. He remembered the Mother's Day preparations in elementary school when he watched everyone else making cards for their mothers. He'd pretend to make a card and just doodle on the paper until it was time to put the project away. He hated Mother's Day. Now that Hannah was without a mom he hated it even more.

A noise in the hallway caught his attention. Sam walked in the door with a plate in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. "See how you do with the water and then we'll talk about some coffee," he grinned at his brother.

Dean studied the younger Winchester's face. Sam looked tired. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes and sadness lurked in the hazel depths of his gaze.

Sam placed the plate and the water bottle on the nightstand and then helped Dean to a sitting position, stuffing pillows behind him until he was sure Dean would be comfortable.

Dean bit back a moan as he sat up, sweat beading on his upper lip. He was grateful to relax back against the pillows and close his eyes.

"Take your time," Sam reassured him, placing his palm against his brother's forehead. He chuckled when Dean weakly swatted it away. "You're definitely feeling better; you're getting cranky."

"Bite me, bitch," Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes when Sam continued to laugh.

When Sam placed the plate of dry toast in front of him, Dean eyed it warily. He wasn't sure his stomach was all that ready to eat anything yet.

"Just take a bite and see how you do," Sam told him. "You need to get something in your stomach."

Dean lifted the toast with a hand that trembled with weakness and took a tentative bite. He chewed slowly and swallowed, hoping his stomach would accept the food offering. "When do I get to meet my niece?" he asked as he waited to see if it was safe to take another bite.

"She's down for her morning nap," Sam explained. "Soon as both of you are awake at the same time I'll arrange a meeting."

Dean pressed his lips together and gave Sam a dirty look before taking a second bite of his toast. He watched as Sam sank down in the recliner. "I'm sorry about Lily, Sam," he said quietly, eager to get this conversation over with.

Sam's eyes were shiny with unshed tears and he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. He nodded and swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me," Dean continued.

Sam shook his head. "You had no way of knowing what was going on," he protested.

"But-"

Sam cut his brother off even as he looked down at his hands he had clutched nervously in his lap. "No, Dean. I'm not going to let you feel guilty for something you couldn't control. I knew you'd be back as soon as you found out. You were keeping people safe, doing your job." Sam looked up at his brother with damp, red-rimmed eyes. "But you're here now, and you're going to be okay. That's all that matters."

Dean pushed the plate of toast away. He'd eaten about three-fourths of a slice and that was all he could handle. His eyes roamed around the bedroom. "Nice place you have here, Sammy," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Do you like the room?" Sam asked, suddenly eager and sitting forward in the recliner.

"Yeah, man, it's great. You can come down here and veg in your recliner. Watch football or horror movies, drink some beer." Dean gestured to the mini-fridge against the wall. "You've got everything you need right here without having to go upstairs."

"Glad you like it," Sam beamed. "It's yours."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "The fridge?"

"No, jerk, the room!" Sam clarified. "Whenever you want to come and stay with Hannah and me, this room will be waiting for you. If you ever decide to give up hunting, you have a place here with us - a home."

Dean's green eyes went wide at Sam's words and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without saying anything. "Sam-" he began, trailing off.

"Hannah needs her uncle," Sam informed him, his eyes a little too shiny once again. He swallowed hard. "And I need my brother, especially now."

Dean found his throat suddenly tight. "I can stay as long as you need me, Sammy," he promised.

"Good," Sam choked out as a cry resounded through the baby monitor sitting on Dean's nightstand.

A smile curved Dean's lips upward, relief flowing through him that the emotional moment had been broken. "Okay, Sammy, it's showtime! Go get my niece!"

Sam shook his head, tried to wipe his eyes without his brother noticing, and hurried out of the room and up the stairs to get his daughter.

Hannah had erupted into angry screams by the time Sam reached her room. "Shhh," he soothed, lifting his daughter and settling her against his broad shoulder. The baby continued to sob, her breaths snuffling against Sam's shirt.

"You can't meet Uncle Dean like this," Sam chided as he changed his daughter's wet diaper. Her grimaced when he realized the diaper had leaked through to her clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket in the corner. He chose a clean outfit, a purple shirt and striped pants, and dressed Hannah quickly. Stopping by the bathroom, he washed her face with a damp cloth. "Let's go get your bottle and then it's time to meet your uncle."

Sam felt his stomach clench with excitement. Dean was going to be so good with his niece. His brother had practically raised him, and had done things for him that their mother would have done. Sam had no doubt that Dean would do the same for little Hannah.

Dean shifted against his pillows, grunting as the wound across his belly pulled painfully. He allowed his eyes to travel over the bedroom once again. He couldn't quite believe he could call this room his; Dean hadn't truly had a room of his own since he was a little boy. Thanks to his brother, he had a bed with a comfortable mattress, a recliner, a refrigerator, and an awesome TV. And Sam had done this for him. The thought was overwhelming. Dean stared at a spot on the wall until he had his emotions under control.

Footsteps on the stairs caught his attention, and he turned to look at the doorway. His stomach twisted with anticipation. Sam appeared in the doorway with his baby girl snuggled against his shoulder, his huge hand cradling her back.

Dean felt his eyes widen. Hannah looked so tiny against Sam's broad shoulder. Protectiveness surged through him. "Bring her here, Sammy," he told his brother anxiously.

"Think you can handle her without hurting your stomach?" Sam asked with concern.

"Dude, she barely weighs anything!" Dean protested. "Now get over here and give me my niece. She wants to meet her cool Uncle Dean!"

Reaching out with one hand, Sam placed a pillow in his brother's lap. "This will help support her so you won't pull your stitches."

Dean grunted. "I'm not getting any younger here, Sammy," he complained.

Sam leaned forward and gently placed Hannah into her uncle's arms. His brother went silent as he stared down at the baby. Sam swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He'd looked forward to this moment since the day Hannah had been born. He had a feeling Dean and Hannah were going to be best buddies.

Dean gazed down at the baby in his arms. Hannah kicked her tiny feet as she stared up at him. Eyes the color of Sam's peered up at him solemnly. She pursed her lips and then gave him a gummy grin. Dean felt a grin spread across his face. "She takes after me, Sammy. She knows how to flirt already."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You'd better be here with me to fend the guys off with a shotgun when she's old enough to date." He snapped a few pictures with his phone, grinning.

Dean looked horrified at the though of Hannah dating anyone. "She's not dating until she's forty," he growled. "I'll get out the grenade launcher."

Sam laughed. "Look at her eyes; they're shaped like yours," he pointed out.

Dean studied the baby's face quietly. "Yeah, I guess they are," he murmured as he enjoyed the baby's warmth in his arms. He took in the fuzzy blonde hair that covered her head, the perfectly shaped lips, and the little button nose. Her hand rested against her tummy, and Dean was mesmerized by the teeny tiny fingernails that capped her fingers. She was perfect in every possible way.

Hannah waved her arms and grinned again before letting out a giant belch.

Sam busted out laughing. "Another way she takes after you!"

"Shut up, bitch!" Dean tossed at his brother.

"Watch your language in front of my daughter, jerk!" Sam teased back.

"She's perfect, Sam," Dean admitted softly when Hannah yawned blinked sleepily up at him.

"Here's her bottle. Do you want to feed her?" Sam held the bottle out so his brother wouldn't have to stretch his arm out too far to reach it.

Dean took it and Hannah opened her mouth like a little bird. She began to suckle hungrily. "Good, isn't it?" Dean murmured. "Soon as you're old enough I'm taking you out for a good burger. You can't survive on all that rabbit food your dad is going to try to feed you."

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing Dean probably would spoil Hannah with burgers and ice cream and pretty much whatever else she wanted. He waited as Dean tried shifting the baby in his arms. "Getting uncomfortable?" Sam asked, reaching down and taking his daughter without waiting for an answer. He knew Dean wouldn't admit that he was hurting.

"You'd better bring her back this afternoon," Dean told his brother as he yawned tiredly, hating to give the baby up, but knowing he was too weak to hold her any longer.

"I will; I promise," Sam told him.

Hannah began to fuss in his arms.

"See, Sammy? She misses me already," Dean pointed out with a cocky grin.

"Yeah, she does," Sam admitted. "We're both glad you can stay for a while." Sam paused. "You are staying for a bit, right?" He asked uncertainly.

"As long as you need me, Sammy," Dean answered, fighting to keep his eyes open. "'Sides, I've got this great room with a recliner, a TV, and a fridge. Can't ask for more, can I?"

Sam shook his head. "Get some sleep, Dean." He was almost to the door when he heard Dean call his name. He turned to face his brother.

"Thanks for this," Dean motioned to the room.

"Only the best for my brother," Sam grinned before heading out of the room to finish feeding Hannah.

Dean shifted against the bed and yawned once more before allowing his eyes to slip closed. He'd definitely stick around for a while, he decided. Hannah needed some spoiling, and he was just the man for the job. He'd get Sammy to bring her back to him when he woke up. Dean shifted once again, and finally comfortable, drifted off to sleep.

The End

*I am thinking of writing a short epilogue with Dean and Hannah if anyone is interested. Thanks for reading!x Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Hannah belongs to me. :)


	4. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and Supernatural do not belong to me.

Coming Home - Epilogue

One month. That's how long Dean had been at his brother's house recovering in the room Sam had prepared just for him. One month of getting to know baby Hannah, his sweet little niece that had him wrapped all around her little finger without even trying. But now it was time to move on. Bobby had called him about a nest of vampires he needed help with and now Dean should get on the road, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to leave this safe little nest Sam had created, this cozy home where his brother had made a haven for their little family. A family Dean felt a part of, a place where he belonged. Dean stood in the doorway of baby Hannah's room and watched her sleep peacefully, oblivious to the evil in the world as she enjoyed her morning nap.

"You don't have to go, you know," Sam walked up behind him and leaned against the wall in the hallway.

Dean sighed. "Bobby needs me," he answered dutifully.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, you're just recovering from a serious injury. I don't think you need to jump back into things just yet. Bobby will understand. Give yourself a few more weeks. You're still sore and not up to your usual strength."

Dean shook his head. "I have to keep at it, Sam. People are dying." He could hear his father's words ringing in his head reminding him that every time they took a break innocent people died.

" **You're** going to die if you go out there and face the vamps before you're strong enough," Sam pointed out dryly, crossing his arms.

"Bobby needs me," Dean said gruffly once again, his tone telling Sam to drop it.

His younger brother pressed his lips together in irritation and ran a hand through his hair. "At least wait until Hannah wakes up so you can say goodbye."

Dean's gaze swung back to his niece. She shifted in her sleep and flung her arms above her head, restless in slumber just like her father. It would be much easier on his emotions to get in the car and drive away, but Dean knew Sam would be furious with him. "All right," he sighed reluctantly. "I'll stay until she wakes up."

Sam nodded, knowing his brother's word was a promise. "Want to do some laundry before you go? I'll help."

Sam had just started the dryer when he heard Hannah's cries over the baby monitor.

"I"ll get her," Dean told him, sliding off a barstool in the kitchen and heading to Hannah's room. He swallowed hard as he realized this would be the last time, possibly for months, that he'd greet his little niece after a nap.

Hannah sobbed, her lower lip trembling as Dean peered over the edge of her crib. "Hey, baby girl," he soothed. She whimpered as he reached down to pick her up. "None of that," he crooned as he carried her to the changing table. Her diaper and her onesie was soaked. "Let's get you all cleaned up," he told her as he began peeling off the damp clothing and the heavy diaper.

Hannah cried pitifully until she was in a fresh diaper and dry clothes. "You're a drama queen just like your dad," Dean quipped at her as he settled Hannah against his shoulder.

"I heard that!" Sam shouted down the hall.

Dean cursed under his breath; he hated the baby monitors his brother had around the house. "Come on, let's go get you something to eat."

Sam had Hannah's bottle ready when Dean entered the kitchen. "Here, thought I'd let you feed her and say goodbye. I need to take out the trash and do a few things in the garage."

Dean nodded, knowing that was Sam's way of giving him some time alone with Hannah. He carried the little girl into the living room and settled on the couch with Hannah in the crook of his arm. Her mouth opened like a baby bird's as the bottle approached and Dean chuckled. "Greedy."

Hannah suckled hungrily as she stared up at Dean. He drew a fingertip down her soft, round cheek. "I have to go away for a while," he told her when her eyes locked on his face. "I have to go help out Uncle Bobby; he needs me." Dean sighed and let Hannah grip his finger in her tiny fist. "I plan on coming back, though. I don't want you to forget who I am. Family is important. Always remember that."

Hannah squeezed his finger and Dean marveled at the tiny, perfectly formed fingernails. This little girl was so helpless. There was no way she could defend herself if anything happened. His belly tightened with nerves. He didn't want to leave her, yet he knew Sam would give his life to keep this little girl safe.

Dean burped her and allowed her to finish her bottle. The minutes slipped by all too quickly, so when Hannah finished her milk he snuggled her against his shoulder. "Don't you go growing up too much until I get back."

"You could just stay here and watch her grow," Sam pointed out as he came into the room. "Trash is out and I straightened up that mess I made in the garage yesterday."

Dean reluctantly stood up, but didn't let go of Hannah. "She was hungry; she ate it all."

Sam grinned. "That's my girl."

Dean moved to pass her off to her dad. "I need to load the car."

Shaking his head, Sam refused to take his daughter. "I'll pack the car. You hold her until you have to leave."

Dean sighed as Sam left the room to get his bags. He pressed his lips to Hannah's temple. "You be safe until Uncle Dean comes back, you hear me? No funny business." He looked down to see Hannah gumming on her fist and slobbering milky drool on his shirt.

Sam grimaced when he saw Dean's shirt a few minutes later. He handed his brother a paper towel in exchange for his daughter. "Want to go change?"

Dean shook his head. "No, it's fine." He wiped off the last of the slobber and tossed the paper towel. "Guess it's time for me to go. Bobby will be waiting for me." Sam followed him outside where the Impala waited, her black paint gleaming in the late morning sun.

"You be careful," Sam cautioned. "You tell Bobby you aren't ready to go full speed ahead yet, or I'll call him and tell him. Hannah needs her Uncle Dean in one piece. I want you to be around to care for her if something happens to me."

"Sammy," Dean began forcefully, "NOTHING is going to happen to you."

"You don't know that," Sam protested. "Promise me you will stop hunting and be there for her if I die. I don't want her in that life." His eyes caught and held Dean's green-eyed gaze.

"I promise," Dean told his little brother earnestly. "You have my word."

Sam nodded, his eyes suddenly a little too shiny. "Come here," he murmured, grabbing his brother roughly with the arm that wasn't holding Hannah. He pulled Dean close and slapped him a few times on the back. "You take care of yourself."

"I will," Dean assured him.

"And don't stay away too long. Babies grow up fast. Hannah will be dating before you know it."

Dean growled. "Over my dead body. I'll get out the grenade launcher and you can have the flame thrower. We'll be waiting for her date on the doorstep."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Sam nodded. "No guy is every going to be good enough for her."

Reluctantly, Dean moved toward the car. "Call me if she needs me, Sammy."

"I will," his brother promised.

Dean felt like he was ripping his own heart out as he got in the car and slammed the door. Sam stood in the driveway with Hannah held against him. He waved her tiny hand at Dean to help her say goodbye. Dean waved and then, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, pulled out of his brother's driveway. He'd be back soon, he reassured himself. With a gentle tap on the horn and a final wave, he left his brother and niece behind and set off to kill a nest of vamps. Somehow the thought wasn't as exciting as it would have been in the past. Instead, he found himself wanting nothing more than to curl up in the recliner in "his" room with baby Hannah in his lap while they watched TV together.

Dean shoved that image from his head with a sigh. He'd be back soon enough and that would have to be ENOUGH for him.

End

*more short epilogue stories possible :)


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